Loose Cannon
by xeloquent
Summary: Four years ago, Olivia Massett went completely off the radar. In those four years, she experienced enough pain for a lifetime. Armed with grief and walls of steel, one day, she decides to come home. Pre-S2 onwards. Trigger warnings will be listed at the top of certain chapters.
1. Homecoming

**Author's Note: **I am the biggest advocate for adding characters where they benefit/alter the story in a way that makes sense and makes change. I don't support just throwing in random characters for the hell of it. Olivia is not a random character. I understand that the twin trope can (and often does) go very flat. There are plenty of prime examples of that floating around the internet. The minute that Norma said "Had I been lucky enough to have a daughter, I would have wanted her to be exactly like you", was the minute that Olivia was born. I toyed with the idea of her being the youngest Bates sibling, but it just would not make sense/work in the story. Had Norma had a daughter with Sam, I do believe she would have favored her over Norman. However, because Olivia is a product of incest, she is a reminder to Norma of the trauma that she went through. She does love her (just like she loves Dylan) but the relationship is strained. Olivia had to be Dylan's twin, so that Norman would still be the golden child. Enjoy this short little introductory chapter! More to come. Please leave a follow, favorite, and a review if you feel so moved!

* * *

**CHAPTER ONE: HOMECOMING**

**IT SMELLED OF PINE.**

The heavy breeze rushed the lush scent towards Olivia's nostrils. She rolled her windows down and rested her arm on the edge. This only encouraged the wind, blowing strands of dirty blonde hair everywhere. A song played, something upbeat with spunk, probably from the 70's. A slightly battered looking wooden sign reading, _Welcome to White Pine Bay!_, greeted her as she drove out of the forest and along the sunny coastline. The glittering waves pushed and pulled along the sand. Families gathered on the beach; a mother and father, arms wrapped around each other, a little boy building a sandcastle, two girls doing cartwheels, always in competition for their parents' attention. She smiled. Everything was as it should have been.

The only thing out of place was her. She was not meant to be here. This was not her home, not the place she had grown up, not the place she'd fallen in love for the first time and not the place she would fall in love for the last. This place was unfamiliar, friendly but not hers.

A ping on the radar. That was Olivia. After disappearing for four years, here she was. A slightly modified version of the person that she used to be. Her hair was shorter, her cheeks were hollower, and her eyes had lost their childlike, glinting quality. Her eighteen year old self was full of hope; starry eyed and naive, barely touched by grief. Sometimes, she missed that girl.

The faint blue buzz of the sign was barely visible in the sunlight. _Bates Motel_ \- _Vacancies_. Her mother had what she had always wanted. She was running her motel. Not only running it, but successfully, too. Now that Sam was gone, she was free.

Gravel crunched underneath the car's tires as she pulled into the parking lot. Lots of other cars were parked in front of the friendly yellow complex. People were scattered everywhere, holding beach balls, towels, and bottles of sunscreen. A father and his daughters were propped under a tree, seemingly napping on a red and white picnic blanket. A mother soothed her crying son, whose face had fallen prey to sunburn. A teenage boy and girl were engaged in an intense game of badminton.

She parked her car in front of Room 6 and quickly glanced around before opening her door and slamming it shut. She had to make sure her mother wasn't around. She wasn't ready to see her. Not yet.

There was a door marked _Motel Office_ in bold, red lettering at the end of all the rooms. Her sandals made the same crunch as her tires as she walked towards it. Olivia peered inside, just to see a teenage girl working. No blonde.

It was a contrast to the sun beating down outside. The cool air was gratefully accepted by Olivia, who had been outside for twenty seconds and was already starting to sweat. A slightly beaten up thermometer on the wall had shot all the way up to 97 degrees. She pushed her sunglasses up against her forehead and wiped the tiny sweat droplets from her brow.

"Hello!" The girl greeted her in a chipper, welcoming tone. A colorfully decorated oxygen tank sat next to her. Olivia tried her best not to stare. She knew what being stared at felt like.

Olivia smiled softly. "Hi, I'd like a room, please?

The girl nodded. "Lucky you got here when you did. You get the last one." She eagerly flipped a switch, which turned _Vacancies _into _No Vacancies. _Emma was excited to tell Norma. This was the first time they'd ever been able to say that they were completely full. "I'll just need to see an I.D. and a credit card."

In addition to her suitcase, Olivia had brought a giant tote bag that would be serving as her purse, toiletries, and makeup bag. Her suitcase had clothes. Everything else had been left with him, minus one book. That was what happened when you left in a haste.

She fumbled through her tote bag for a minute before locating her wallet. She pulled out two glossy cards and handed them across the desk. The girl accepted, and in return gave her a clipboard. There was a form stuck on it. "Fill this out, please." Olivia hesitated, worried that her mother would possibly come across the form before she had revealed herself. But she filled it out anyways. Basic questions like her name, date of birth, where she was traveling from, etc. She could have lied. She could have said her name was Olivia Halloway. But she didn't. _Olivia Massett _was printed in bold, loopy letters.

"Alright, you're going to be in Room 8." Emma turned around and grabbed the last key left on the wall. It caught the sunlight and glinted happily while exchanging hands. "Here's the key. Housekeeping comes once a day, around noon. In the morning, there'll be a pot of fresh coffee in here. You're welcome to have some at any time. Anything else, just let whoever's in the office know. I'm Emma."

Emma gave her a kind smile, which she happily returned."Thank you, Emma." The one and only person that she had met in White Pine Bay so far was kind. This gave her hope. She was pretty, too. Wide, brown puppy dog eyes and dimples. Norman probably liked her.

"Enjoy your stay."

A group of teenage boys were standing next to Room 4, ogling at her. Olivia met eyes with one of them, and they all quickly looked away. She could hear their whispers as she passed. She smiled and rolled her eyes. Oh, if only they knew.

The key went into the lock and clicked with ease. It turned, and the door swung open. Olivia walked inside and set the suitcase she had been toting around with her on the bed. Her seafoam-green eyes danced around the room, making a note of the pale blue sheets, patterned carpeting, and the tiny bathroom to the right of her. James had always just dumped everything out of his suitcase and onto the bed, the minute they got there. That was something that had bugged her. Why couldn't he nicely unpack, like everyone else, one thing at a time? She was convinced he did it just to push her buttons.

She tossed herself backwards onto the bed. A soft sigh escaped her lips. This was the first time in a long time that she finally felt like she was able to breathe. As she tilted her head upwards towards the ceiling, it was almost as if she could see the stick-on, glow in the dark stars she used to love so much.

* * *

_"You're always staring at those things."_

_His voice interrupted the silence and made Olivia jump. She pushed her head back to see her upside down brother staring at her, eyebrow raised. Her legs were pressed up against the wall, her head pointed up at the ceiling. Nighttime was her favorite part of the day, because it meant that the stars were out. Every night, the sky was filled with them, just for her._

_"I like them." She shrugged and turned away from him. She knew what was coming next. From the moment they went on the ceiling, he always made a point of telling her how he really felt. Daily._

_Dylan got up from his bed and grabbed his Gameboy off of his dresser. He plopped back onto his bed and started playing some game that involved spaceships, guns, and a lot of sound effects. "I don't. I think they're ugly."_

_She fired back, never missing a beat. "I don't like those model airplanes you're obsessed with. We all have our things." Dylan quickly shut his mouth and glanced over at his growing collection of model airplanes on his dresser. His quick distraction led to his spaceship being blown up, and a deep, distorted voice saying, "GAME OVER!"_

_There were two swift knocks on the door, and it slowly opened without waiting for an answer. "It's time for bed, guys." Norma looked between her two children, neither of which looked particularly tired. It appeared that she had just finished giving Norman his bath. There were a couple of small wet spots on the front of her shirt._

_Dylan quickly tried to shove his gaming console underneath his pillow without Norma noticing. Of course, it didn't work, and she rolled her eyes at her son's attempt. "Gameboy, Dylan." She held out her hand. After a minute, he begrudgingly handed it over, sticking out his bottom lip in a pout. This was becoming a daily routine. Dylan thrived on trouble._

_"You can have it back tomorrow, okay?" She reassured him. "Goodnight." Norma leaned down and attempted to kiss him anyways, but Dylan swiftly pulled the covers over his head and turned towards the wall, dodging her. She sighed. This is how it always was with him._

_She turned her attention towards her daughter, who gratefully accepted the affection. "Goodnight, sweetheart." Norma planted a kiss on Olivia's forehead and nose, causing her to giggle. Norma smiled, while Dylan rolled his eyes, still turned towards the wall. Norma had begun walking towards the door and had turned the light off when Olivia's voice quietly piped up, __"Mom?"_

_Norma, who was halfway through the doorway, turned around. "Mm?"_

_Olivia glanced up at her stars, filled with fire and longing. "Do you think I could go to space someday?"_

_The question had caught Norma off guard, but she smiled. "I think you can do anything you want to, my love." She blew Olivia an air kiss, and shut the door. Other than the tiny crack in the door that let in a bit of hallway light, the stars were the only thing keeping Dylan from having nightmares. He would never admit it, but he was scared of the dark. Olivia knew. Dylan rolled over, pulled the covers further over his head, and groaned, while his sister smiled, shut her eyes, and peacefully drifted off to sleep. __That night, her dreams were filled with spinning planets and speckled with stars._

_Seven years later, her brother finally stopped giving her grief for her obsession. It had only blossomed as she got older. Her fascination with space was inspiring to him. He wished that he had something he was as passionate about as she was. Cigarettes, maybe. Her room, formerly their room, was only hers now. Sam decided that it was inappropriate for a teenaged brother and sister to share a room. Norma agreed. That was that. Dylan and Norman shared, and Olivia placed her telescope next to the window where his bed used to be. The perfect spot for stargazing. She turned over the telescope that Dylan had given her as a birthday present. He had been saving up for it, and even got in engraved. The message never failed to make her smile. There, in bold silver lettering, were the words, "Head in the clouds, heart with the stars."_


	2. The Geminis

**CHAPTER TWO: THE GEMINIS  
**

**IT WAS MIDDAY WHEN OLIVIA ARRIVED.**

Her hair was messy and her body felt sticky with sweat. She needed to shower and change her clothes. Her stomach growled, reminding her that she hadn't eaten anything since she stopped at a gas station nearly 16 hours ago and bought a cheap slice of pizza. She needed to shower, change her clothes, and then get something to eat.

She looked in the bathroom to see a toilet, sink, shower (complete with a colorful curtain, adding some pop to the nearly all white room), and a stack of white towels sitting on a small wall hung shelf. Olivia picked up the tote bag that she had thrown on the floor, kicked her shoes off into the corner of the room, and went into the bathroom. She turned the shower on as hot as it could go, and instantly steam filled the room. She undressed and wiped the condensation off of the full body mirror hanging on the door. She ran her fingers gently along the scar that wrapped around her torso. It was like poison to her eyes.

While Olivia stepped into the shower, 8 rooms away, Dylan stepped into the motel office. "Hey, Emma. Is Norma around?"

Emma looked up at him, smiled, and shook her head. "You just missed her. She had to go into town for something."

Dylan nodded. "Okay. When she gets back, will you let her know that there's a package for her sitting on the kitchen counter?"

"Sure."

He gave her the signature Dylan Massett half-smile, and turned around to go. He was planning on spending the day getting some _quality_ entertainment. Girls and beer. Emma tapped her fingers on the desk and felt a surge of regret as he started to leave. She saw this as her shot to ask, so before he could open the door, she quickly spit out, "Hey Dylan.. do you know an Olivia?"

It caught him off guard. Nobody had mentioned that name to him in years. Norma certainly didn't talk about her, and Norman did (or didn't do) whatever his mother did. She was a taboo subject in the Bates household. Dylan turned around quickly, raised an eyebrow, and eyed Emma suspiciously. He wanted to know why she was asking before he answered. "Maybe. Why?"

"One just checked in." Emma looked over the paper that Olivia had handed her with her information on it. Immediately, she remembered Dylan's last name. "Her last name is Massett, and I thought you guys might be related."

Dylan felt his face go slightly numb. "Um, I don't know an Olivia. Just a coincidence," he stumbled over his words.

"Oh, okay." Emma was disappointed. She was hoping that there would be some sort of juicy backstory for her to sink her teeth into. The Bates family always had some sort of drama floating around them, whether it was with the town or with themselves. Norma and Norman had been known to have their spats.

In a nervous habit, Dylan ran a hand through his hair and clicked his feet together. "Can you not mention this to my mom?"

Emma tilted her head and raised an eyebrow. "She owns the motel, Dylan, she's bound to know all of the guests names." Curious. Why would it matter if Norma knew about their guest _unless _they somehow knew each other? She sensed bad blood.

"Please, Emma?"

It would probably prove to be somewhat impossible, but she promised him anyways. Emma sighed and nodded quickly. "I'll do my best."

"Out of curiosity, what's her room number?"

"Eight."

"Thanks." Dylan turned on his heel with such urgency and excitement that he forgot to shut the office door. He was headed to knock on Room 8's door. Emma placed a hand on her cheek and leaned on the desk. _Olivia Massett. _The words were there, clearly, in ink. He obviously knew her. That much had been made clear. But how? A sister? Nobody had ever mentioned one. A cousin, maybe.

The same group of teenage boys who had gawked at Olivia were now raising eyebrows at Dylan. He was half jogging to her door. He was there. Room 8. He sighed, hesitantly reached his fist out, and knocked on the door.

_It was her._

_She was here._

Olivia had gotten dressed quickly after her rather short shower had been rudely interrupted by the intrusion of cold water. She was brushing out her half wet hair when a couple of urgent sounding knocks came from outside of her room. She jumped and dropped her hairbrush. It hit the floor with a clang, but she hardly noticed. What if it was her mother? She had no idea what she was going to say to her yet. Of course, she had rehearsed different things in her head but nothing quite worked.

"W-who is it?" She asked cautiously. She was either expecting it to be Emma, who had figured out who she was, or her mother, on her way in to kick her out and tell her that she should have stayed gone.

"It's Dylan."

Had she heard them correctly? It definitely was a man's voice, but Dylan? She would have thought that here with her mother and brother was the last place that he would ever be. "Dylan who?" She asked, sure that it couldn't be _her_ Dylan. "You know who it is, Liv."

When she opened the door, Olivia felt her heart drop. It _was_ her brother. A couple of years older, a little rougher around the edges, but it was him. In 97 degree heat, he was still clinging onto that leather jacket. "Hi, Dylan," She spoke plainly, leaning against the door frame. She and Dylan had kept somewhat in touch, until a year ago. After that, it was total radio silence. He was left wondering if she was dead or not.

"Where the hell have you been?"

Olivia stepped to the side and allowed her brother to storm into the room. "That's a long story," She glanced around outside and shut her door. Still no sign of Norma.

"You could have at least called me. Hell, you could have sent a letter. Something. It's been a year, Liv."

"I know. I should have sent you an owl." Olivia smiled at her brother, and he surprisingly returned it. Her reference to the obsession they once shared over Harry Potter had caused his anger to dissipate.

Dylan stepped forward and pulled her towards him. He hugged her tightly. She hadn't had a hug like that in awhile. "I missed you."

"I missed you, too." Olivia buried her head in his shoulder. For a few seconds, there was a pleasant silence. Pure bliss. When they pulled away, Olivia flashed him a weak smile and averted her eyes to the floor. "Can you do me a favor and not tell mom that I'm here? At least, not yet? I have to work out what I'm going to say to her." She clicked her feet together.

"Yeah, of course."

She knew that he would have her back. Olivia walked over to the corner of the room and grabbed the shoes that she had abandoned. She sat on the bed and slid them on. Dylan raised an eyebrow. "You going somewhere?"

"Yeah, I'm going to go into town and get something to eat. I was also going to see if anywhere is hiring. Do you want to come?"

He smiled. "So you're staying awhile?" Dylan asked, hopeful. It would be nice having her around. Someone he could talk to when Norma got on his nerves or if Norman tried to attack him with another meat tenderizer.

She nodded. "I was planning on it, as long as Mom doesn't flip her shit and make me leave once she sees me."

Having Norma and Olivia in the same room would be.. something. It had been 4 years for her. While she and Dylan talked somewhat regularly, Norma hadn't heard anything from her daughter in 4 years. Olivia had made him promise that he wouldn't tell her where she was. She didn't have enough room to deal with everything that she was, and her mother's pleas to come home on top of it.

Dylan smirked. "We can take my motorcycle."

* * *

Olivia put on the helmet that Dylan handed her, and hopped onto the motorcycle behind him. He must have bought it after she left. He'd never had one (Norma wouldn't allow him) but had never stopped talking about his desire to buy one. He wanted the freedom of feeling the wind on his face and not worrying about the consequences. She wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her head on his familiar leather jacket. She had missed her brother. She had missed how safe she felt with him.

Five minutes later and Dylan was parking his motorcycle on main street, outside of the gem of the town; a tiny diner called Georgia's. He had quickly forgotten what Emma had said about Norma being in town. As if placed there by the hand of God, there was a bright blue flier stuck to the door, reading "We're Hiring!", with a black and white cartoon drawing of a waitress. A diner? It was perfect. Olivia had work experience in restaurants already. With any luck, she would be hired _and _wouldn't have to deal with a slimy male boss that made the waitresses wear short skirts and found any excuse to have them bend over.

A little bell rang as they opened the door, and already, Olivia could tell this would be better than her last job. Bright blue booths matching the color of the flier greeted them, along with shiny black and white checkered floors, a giant chalkboard listing the specials, and a glass case full of a hundred different kinds of pie. It smelled like apples and cinnamon. There was something warm about the place, something comforting.

The waiters were mostly women, and they all looked incredibly different. The only thing that they all had in common were the peach colored t-shirts with _Georgia's _across the back. The place was mostly full, all the waitresses running around and tending to the customers. There was a sign when they walked in that read, "_Please seat yourself_!", so Dylan and Olivia picked an unclaimed booth towards the front. Giant glass windows sat adjacent to them, looking out onto the street.

Two glossy menus sat in the middle of the table. They each grabbed one. While Olivia pretended to be very interesting in the lunch options, she cleared her throat. "So, do you have a job, Dylan?" Her eyes peered over the top of her menu and across the table.

Dylan smiled, thinking about the gun safely tucked into his jeans. "I do, actually."

She raised an eyebrow in surprise and set the menu down. "Really?"

"Don't act so surprised."

Olivia was immediately intrigued. "So, what do you do?"

He hesitated. "I.. guard stuff."

Suddenly, Dylan's fingernails had become very important to him. He wouldn't stop picking at them. Now, Olivia had to know more. "What kinda stuff?"

Dylan debated whether or not to lie to her. He had told Norma, who definitely did not approve. Telling his sister should be easy. It was likely she wouldn't care. "..Plants," he finally spit out, after a few seconds too many of deliberation.

To his surprise, Olivia's jaw dropped and she shook her head in disbelief. "Oh my god, Dylan. Isn't that dangerous?" She wasn't so worried about the _nature _of Dylan's work as she was about his safety. She had seen plenty of _Breaking Bad. _She knew what happened to people that got involved in the drug business.

He waved a hand at her dismissively. "Yeah, I don't need another lecture. I already got one from mom. It makes good money."

"Mom willingly moved to a town infiltrated with drugs?" Norma Bates did not like drugs. She had made this a well known fact to all of her children _and_ the guests at the motel. Even the mention of cigarettes made her tense up. She had always been disappointed when Dylan would come home smelling like them.

Dylan rolled his eyes. "Don't be so dramatic. She didn't know when she first got here. I think she just needed to get away from Arizona and that house after Sam."

Olivia was about to open her mouth and respond when a teenaged girl with a long, blonde braid walked up to their table and greeted them with a smile. "Hi, I'm Malia, and I'll be helping you guys today. Can I get you started with some drinks?" She pulled a notepad and pen out of her apron pocket, clicked the pen a few times, and waited for the pair to order.

She smiled warmly at the waitress. "I'll have a chai tea, please." Malia quickly scribbled her order down and looked to Dylan, who ordered a black cup of coffee. Malia promised to be back soon and whisked off to tend to another one of her tables. Dylan watched her leave, then turned back to his sister. "Chai tea, Liv? California changed you."

"I just don't mix it with bourbon anymore," she smiled sardonically, but shuddered inside at the thought of who she was before. Those months after were.. not her proudest moments. She was going to start fresh here. Leave everything else behind.

"So, what happened to that boyfriend of yours? Justin, was it?"

"James. And we're not together anymore."

Dylan sat up straight and frowned. "Did he hurt you?"

She shook her head vehemently. "No, Dylan, it wasn't like that. James is a good guy. We just weren't meant to be."

He didn't fully believe her, but he chose not to pry into their relationship. She would tell him when she wanted to. "So, that's why you left California. Why'd you choose to come here of all places? You could have moved to Paris or Costa Rica or even New Hampshire.." But Olivia was no longer listening. She was too focused on the blonde woman that was dangerously close to the window. She wanted to take her eyes away, hide, but she couldn't. Her stare was glued to _her. _Norma Louise Bates was on the street just outside, oblivious to the fact that two of her children were a mere 50 feet away.

Finally, Dylan realized that his sister was no longer listening to him and had her attention pointed at something else. He glanced outside and immediately tensed up. "Oh my god, it's mom. Duck." Luckily for them, Norma wasn't focused on _Georgia's _and its occupants. She walked quickly with impetus past the restaurant, not noticing her two wide eyed children staring at her.

"S-she cut her hair." The two exchanged a glance, then broke into a fit of laughter. She had just seen her mother for the first time in four years and that was the best that she could do?

An hour later, their food was eaten, two more chai teas had been ordered, and a steady fit of laughter overcame the table. They had talked about everything: all the crazy things that this town had thrown at Dylan, Olivia's long work history, and whether or not she still had that telescope. When the check came, Dylan reached out to pay, but Olivia grabbed his hand and shook her head. "I've got it. Keep your plant money." Dylan rolled his eyes but didn't bother arguing. If there was one thing the women in his family had in common, it was their stubbornness.

When Malia came back to collect the check, Olivia seized her opportunity. "I saw that you guys were hiring. Is there any chance that I could get an application?"

Malia grabbed the check and glossy card that had been placed on top of it, and nodded. "Sure! I'll be right back." She walked to the back of the restaurant and out of sight. When she came back, she was not alone. There was an older woman with her. The woman had blonde, slightly greying hair, vibrant pink lipstick, and a thick Southern accent. She smiled brightly at Olivia. "Hi, honey. I'm Georgia. Malia said you were wanting an application?"

"Yeah, I just moved here and I'm looking for a good, steady job."

"You got any experience?"

Olivia nodded. "Yeah, I've waitressed in a couple of different restaurants in the past couple of years."

Georgia seemed impressed and handed her a single white piece of paper. "Here's the application. You fill that out right away and bring it back as soon as you're done. As long as everything looks good, you could start Thursday."

"Really? That's wonderful! Thank you, Georgia!"

"You're more than welcome, honey." She leaned down and spoke in a half-whisper, just to Olivia. "It's not like this town is full of ready applicants." Georgia glanced up at Dylan, patted Olivia on the back, and started walking back towards the kitchen. She was stopped halfway there by an older couple, who she obviously knew. They started making conversation.

Olivia turned back to her brother and smirked. "She knows, Dylan."

Dylan was confused and furrowed his brow. "About what?"

"About your _job._"

Through Olivia's snickering, Dylan managed to slug his sister in the arm. Everything was as it should have been. Maybe she _was_ meant to be here. Maybe.

* * *

**Author's Note:** First of all, I want to say thank you for the kind reviews on the last chapter! I honestly was not sure if anyone would read this. There was one person in particular (you know who you are, Guest) whose review meant so much to me! THANK YOU! On another note, I added _Georgia's_ in for all the fans of _Little Sheriff _(which I'm thinking about possibly revisiting!) :D Georgia is a colorful character who I love, and I think that it could be really interesting to have all of my Bates stories (those already written and ones that may be written in the future) somewhat connected. For now, Georgia is the only connection! But expect more easter eggs soon :) Also, the chapter title is metaphorical. I have determined that Olivia and Dylan's zodiac sign is Sagittarius :) Please follow, favorite, and review if you feel so moved!


	3. The Breakfast Club

**CHAPTER THREE: THE BREAKFAST CLUB**

**TAKE A BREATH, TAKE A STEP.**

It was that simple. However simple and painless it would be, Olivia was having a hard time telling her body that. It was her first official day at work. She attempted to somewhat collect herself before walking into the diner. As soon as she walked in, she spotted Malia, who smiled and waved at her. She was brewing a pot of coffee while also cutting up a pan of coffee cake into squares. "Hey, Olivia!" Malia ushered her over. Was it weird? So far the two people she felt most comfortable with in White Pine Bay were a teenage girl and an elderly woman.

Malia had given her a tour of the diner that Wednesday, when they were closed. It was the only day of the week that they were. Malia explained that she had once asked Georgia why it was only Wednesday, such an odd day to choose. Georgia retorted back, "It's the day that the showy Christians force their families to go to Wednesday service. Nobody would come." Georgia, a faithful Christian herself, did not attend Wednesday service.

Her new friend explained to her how everything worked, Georgia's rules (the list was short), and all the ins and outs of working there. Olivia finally asked Malia how old she was, and the answer was somewhat surprising. She was eighteen, but could have just as easily passed for fourteen. Her doe eyes, small frame, and round, cherubic face had given off mixed signals. After the tour, they'd gone out to eat and gotten to know each other a bit better. Malia was the oldest of three, wanted to be an ophthalmologist, and had an irrational fear of dogs.

"Can you help me out here?" Malia's hands held four plates of coffee cake, two of which were dangerously close to the edge. Olivia quickly dropped her bag on the ground, ran over, and prevented the worst. "I've got you," she assured her. She took the two plates, opened the glass case, and pushed them inside. Her stomach grumbled, a constant reminder that she had never failed to not eat breakfast. "A bit loud, isn't it?" Malia chuckled and put the remaining sweets inside the case, and shut it. "Really, you can hear that?" Malia nodded and motioned behind her at the now full coffee pot. "I made that for us. We still have a half-hour until we open. Help yourself."

Perhaps greedily, Olivia grabbed a ceramic mug, filled it, and drank it black. It was hot, and burned her tongue. She didn't mind. It warmed her up inside. "Do you think we're going to be busy?"

Malia shrugged. "You never know with this town. If we are, it's good practice." She smiled reassuringly and tapped Olivia on the shoulder as she walked back to the kitchen. Olivia was left alone with her thoughts. She had a strange feeling about today. She wasn't sure if it was bad or good. Regardless, she had to shake it off and get to work. She set the cup down and picked up her purse that had been sloppily thrown on the ground. There were a set of hooks towards the back wall, so Olivia hung it on that. She silenced her phone for good measure. There were a list of things to do before opening. Malia had done a good chunk of it, but there was still plenty to be done. Olivia decided that she would start from the top and go down. Occasionally, she had to stop and ask how to do something, but there was a steady work rhythm between the girls. They chatted happily while brewing coffee and cleaning tables. At promptly nine o'clock, the time that Georgia's opened, a trio of older ladies greeted Malia as she unlocked the door and let them inside. Malia looked to Olivia, who raised an eyebrow, and mouthed, "Regulars." She nodded in understanding, and went back to plating pastries.

The rest of the day was steady, but not overwhelming. Nothing that they couldn't handle. Georgia finally stepped out of the back where she had been hiding a couple of hours after they had opened. She had been preparing and freezing some of tomorrow's sweets.

There was an hour left in Olivia's shift when they came in. The bell on the door rang happily as it was opened. "You got them?" Malia asked. "Mhm," Olivia bluntly replied, not looking up from the list she was making. Georgia had asked her to take a survey of all of the things they were out of that she needed to buy. The vanilla syrup was close.

Finally, Olivia looked up, stopped in her tracks, and turned around. Malia raised an eyebrow curiously. "What?" Olivia shook her head. "I can't go over there." Her mother's blonde hair was hard to miss. Norma and Norman had just walked in and were waiting to be seated. Luckily, Olivia had turned around in time before either of them had the opportunity to see her.

Georgia, who had been secretly watching over her new worker all day, noticed how suddenly flustered she was. Olivia had been doing wonderful, up until that moment. Concern gathered on her face and skewed her features. "What's wrong?"

Olivia swallowed the lump that was forming in her throat. "T-that's my mother and brother that just walked in."

Georgia tilted her head at the girl curiously. "You guys don't get along?"

"I haven't spoken to either of them in four years," Olivia explained, without going into much detail. Any detail, really. She wouldn't even know where to begin.

The older blonde nodded and ushered a waitress named Hannah over. "Hannah, can you help those people that just walked in? I'm going to bring Olivia back into the kitchen with me."

Hannah nodded without another word and went to greet Norma and Norman. Georgia placed a comforting hand on Olivia's back and led her towards the kitchen, like she'd said she would.

Olivia had been in the kitchen so few times that she could count them on one hand. Still, it was already becoming somewhat familiar. She pointed towards an apron that was hanging on a wall stub, to which Georgia nodded. Georgia cleared her throat as Olivia wrapped the apron around her waist and tied it in a sloppy bow on her back. "How are you at baking?"

"I'm better at frosting a cake than scrambling eggs."

Georgia chuckled lightly, the edges of her eyes crinkling. "Good answer."

Olivia found that her hands were already somehow dusted with flour, so she wiped them on her front. "So, what are we making?"

"_I'm_ making pastries." Georgia's hands were back to fiddling with dough, twisting it into whatever shape came to mind. "You're going to frost cupcakes. Easy enough?"

Olivia nodded and shuffled towards the counter, where freshly made cupcakes sat on a cooling rack. Some were brown, some were white, and some were an odd shade of green. Frosting and pipes of all different colors and sizes, respectively, were piled on the counter next to them. Georgia had given her no further guidelines, so she began frosting. She picked a nice shade of orange (_tangerine_).

The two women stood in peaceful silence for a few moments, one's hands buried in dough and the other's moving quickly and precisely. Neither were thinking about the tasks at hand. It was Georgia who finally broke the silence. "Do you garden, Olivia?"

It was not the question that she had been expecting to receive, but one she was happy to answer. "Not anymore. I used to help my mom with hers," Olivia thought back to when, as a child, she would run out to the humble garden in her backyard, and help her mother, for hours on end. Her braid would always somehow end up with streaks of mud in it, and Norma's too big, floppy sunhat would always end up on her head. "Why?"

"I have a big beautiful garden. Flowers, mainly. I don't bother with vegetables anymore. Something not quite right about the soil here. My husband doesn't like my flowers much. Says it attracts too many bees."

Olivia stood quiet, still waiting for Georgia to get to the point. "Anyways, I want you to come help me. I have some weeding that needs to be done and it's too much for the old knees to handle. What do you say?"

Georgia looked hopefully at Olivia, a smile plastered on her face. Olivia's hands momentarily stopped frosting as she quickly glanced up at her boss. She'd heard this before. At her old job, her manager had tried to get her to come to his house on many occasions. He'd tried every excuse _(I'm having a dinner party, which nobody else will be attending_ or _my bed is awful lonely with just me, don't you think?)_. Of course, she'd rejected him every time. _This _didn't exactly feel like _that_, but still. "I don't know, Georgia."

Without missing a beat, Georgia fired back. "I'll make you lunch."

Still, Olivia was unsure and tilted her head uncertainly.

Georgia was ready. She had been expecting hesitance. "I'll make you peach cobbler."

There was no possible way that Georgia could have known, but peach cobbler _was _Olivia's favorite dessert (_and unapologetically so). _She hadn't had it homemade in years, not since her seventeenth birthday when she convinced her mother she'd rather have that than a proper cake. She found that her mouth was watering from just thinking about it. "Okay, okay, I surrender." Olivia held her hands up, defeated.

Georgia smiled and clapped her hands together excitedly "Oh, it'll be so nice to have you, sweetie."

"This better be the best peach cobbler I've ever tasted."

* * *

An hour later, Olivia was parking her car in the motel parking lot and unlocking the door to her room. A smile was unintentionally plastered on her face, one that was scared off at the sight of her brother sitting on her bed.

"Jesus, Dylan! You scared the crap out of me."

"Sorry," he shrugged and took a sip out of the mug he was holding. Olivia looked at him curiously. Dylan rarely drank coffee or tea, especially not at five in the afternoon. Suspicious, she bent down and smelled his cup, and was not surprised by the scent that greeted her.

Olivia narrowed her eyes at her brother disapprovingly. "Bourbon, Dylan, really?"

He nodded quickly, a wide smile spread across his face. He glanced clock next to the bed and was delighted to see that it read 5:06 P.M. "Hey, it's Happy Hour."

She shook her head and pulled her hair out of the hair tie it had been confined in all day. She flipped her hair forward and back, and a mess of blonde fell down her back. "How'd you get in here anyways?"

Dylan took another sip. "Took the extra key from the office when Norma wasn't looking."

Instantly, she became defensive. "That is an invasion of privacy. What if I'd been in here? What if I was naked?" What if he'd walked in when she wasn't wearing a shirt? What would he have to say about the ugly scar that wrapped around her midsection? What if he'd gone through her stuff? It didn't sound like Dylan. He wasn't usually nosy, but given the right set of circumstances, people could become anything.

He saw it more simply. "Then I would have knocked."

She rolled her eyes. Of course he would say that. "And when did you start calling mom _Norma_?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. Long time ago."

Olivia plopped on the bed next to her brother and fell backwards onto a pillow that had obviously been newly plumped. "Mhm, and how does she feel about that?"

Dylan leaned back as well, and set his mug on the bedside table. No coaster. Norma would be livid if there were water stains on her table (she wouldn't notice). "Don't know, don't care." But he _did _in fact know and a tiny part of him _did _in fact care.

Olivia looked at him with concern and disbelief. She could always tell when he was lying. Always had been able to. The conversation was taking a turn that he was not interested in diving into. "Hey sis, how was your first day of work?"

"Don't change the subject."

Dylan sat up and looked his sister in the eyes. "You are in no position to lecture me when you've got your own mommy issues to work through."

_Ouch. _That hit a little too close for Olivia's taste.

She bit her lip and rolled out of bed. She walked to the bathroom and promptly shut the door. Dylan could hear the shower running and could see some steam starting to come out of the bottom of the door. Great. She was mad at him. After a minute of silence, she finally piped up, albeit muffled, "My day was great, thanks for asking."

* * *

_"Sincerely yours, The Breakfast Club."_

_Sam had gone on some sort of business trip, leaving Norma alone with the kids for a few days. Had he been there, Olivia wouldn't have dared to leave her room before morning. But he wasn't, and whatever punishment her mother would give if she found out her daughter was awake wouldn't be nearly as bad as a spanking from her stepfather._

_Olivia was confused. She had intentionally stolen the VHS tape from her mother's collection, but had no idea what any of it meant. Why were they The Breakfast Club? There was no breakfast the whole movie._

_She'd gotten the idea of stealing it at all from Hattie Anderson's older sister, who called it "a classic", and "the best movie she had ever seen, mind you". She just wanted to see what all the fuss was about. _

_"Olivia, what on Earth are you doing up? It's two in the morning." A groggy looking Norma appeared in the doorway, a light blue robe hugging her body and a frown adorning her face. It appeared she'd just woken up. She had the bed head to prove it._

_She'd been sure that the volume was low enough. It was so low that she had to turn on closed captions to understand what they were saying. But, Norma, who since becoming a mother had developed superhuman hearing, had heard the low hum of the television._

_Olivia had been lying on her stomach, kicking her heels together in a steady rhythm. A pillow rested underneath her elbows and her head sat in her hands. She quickly sat up as her mother began to walk towards her. Norma grabbed the remote and switched the television off. She turned her attention back towards her daughter and rubbed her eyes. Olivia bit her lip, embarrassed. "Sorry."_

_Norma sighed and tugged at her neck. Her daughter's question came in a hushed tone. "Are you mad at me?"_

_The mother's features instantly changed from slightly annoyed to concerned. "No, I'm not mad at you." Norma tucked her robe underneath of her and sat next to her daughter. "I just don't understand why you couldn't have waited until the morning to watch it."_

_"I didn't think you would let me."_

_Norma studied Olivia. Her features were mostly dark and muted, because of the little light that was coming from a lamp next to the couch. Still, she could see that her lip was quivering. "And Sam comes back tomorrow, right?"_

_The lack of response from her was answer enough. Norma shivered a little at this. Her own child was scared to watch a movie. Because of_ him. _Because of _her. "_Olivia_,_ has he ever touched you?"_

_The eight year old was caught off guard by the question. Had Sam ever touched her? Of course he had. A hand on her shoulder here or there when he was leaving for work or, when she had been a little younger, holding her hand as they crossed the street. What kind of a question was that? Her eyes widened as they looked at her mother with curiosity and confusion. "What do you mean?"_

_Norma shook her head and rubbed her temples. "Never mind. Forget I asked." She felt stupid for asking. _

_"C'mon, we'd better get you to bed." The woman stood and pulled Olivia up with her. She was petite, like Norma, and could still be carried. Norma rested her on her hip and walked to her bedroom. Olivia was confused, and convinced that her mother was too. "This is your room, mom."  
_

_Norma smiled and set her on the bed. "I know. How do you feel about having a sleepover?"_

_She watched as her daughter's eyes instantly lit up. They'd only had a sleepover, just the two of them, once. And as far as she was concerned, it was the most fun she'd had ever. Olivia began to squeal and bounce up and down on the bed, making the walls rattle a little. Norma held a finger up to quiet her, but couldn't help but smile._

_"Can't wake up your brothers. Can't have them being jealous."_

_"Okay," Olivia whispered, "I'll be quiet."_

_She snuggled underneath the covers, in a bed that was delightfully too big for her, next to her mother, who she believed to be the single best person on the planet. Norma turned the lights off, climbed into bed, and pulled her daughter's head towards her chest. She kissed her forehead._

_"Goodnight, Olivia."_

_Olivia was so preoccupied with the curious sounds of her mother's heartbeat against her ear that she almost forgot to respond. "Goodnight, mama."_

_And it was, a good night._

_She felt wholly, incredibly safe._

* * *

**Author's Note:** Norma and young Olivia have. my. heart. Next chapter is a very big, very important one (to the story and to me), and has been one of my favorites to write. I did/am continuing to do lots of research on trauma/how trauma as a child can affect an adult for the next and coming chapters. Want to do right by the Bates/Massett kids :) Please follow, favorite, and leave a review if you feel so moved!


	4. Peaches

_**Trigger Warning: **Mentions of substance abuse, depictions of violence and sexual assault/attempted rape._

* * *

**CHAPTER FOUR: PEACHES  
**or  
**THE MOST HEARTBREAKING NIGHT OF NORMA LOUISE BATES' ENTIRE LIFE (EVER)**

**NORMA BATES HAD LED A RELATIVELY UNHAPPY LIFE.**

She had been unlucky in that sense. Three beautiful children were given to her, and two out of the three of them hated her. A small voice in the back of her head told her that Norman did, too. Every man that she had ever known had hurt her, in one way or another. She had endured her father's abuse, harassment from her brother, John's leaving and Sam's alcohol infused fits of rage. She was a survivor, in every definition of the word. But nothing had hurt more than the night that her daughter left.

It had started out as a typical night in the Bates household. Dylan and Norman arrived home from school around the same time that Olivia did from work. She had managed to graduate high school a semester early. Stellar grades and enough credits allowed her to focus on her job at the library, and start saving up money for herself.

The kitchen smelled like herbs and spices. Norma was cooking. Dylan had come home long enough only to throw his backpack on his bed, and say that he was going out with friends and wouldn't be home for dinner. Norman was in his room reading, and Sam was sitting in his recliner in the living room, watching a baseball game. Four empty cans of beer sat next to him. Another one sat on his lap, nearly gone.

Olivia came in through the door stemming off of the kitchen into the garage, took her jacket off and hung it on the coat rack near the door. "What smells good?"

Norma looked up from the stove and greeted her daughter with a smile. "Chicken Parmesan. Dinner will be ready in about half an hour."

The younger blonde nodded and elected to go to the living room, where the book she had been reading this morning was still waiting for her. "Hi, Sam," she greeted the man in a less than chipper tone. He simply ignored her and turned up the volume on the television. She rolled her eyes, plopped on the couch, and lost herself in the pages of _Tess of the d'Urbervilles._

Half an hour later as promised, the table was set and the food was hot. Norma smiled contently, proud of the beautiful meal that she had made. Olivia watched her mother's smile falter slightly as Sam grabbed a plate, piled food on it, and went back to the living room to resume the game.

Dinner was silent until Norman decided to make conversation with his mother. Olivia watched her mother and brother lose themselves in discussion across from her. Norma was laughing at something that her son had just said. Olivia looked down at her plate. She didn't feel like talking.

After everything was put away, Norma had gone to the store for some last minute groceries and brought Norman with. Dylan was still out, leaving Olivia and Sam by themselves. Olivia had gone back to reading and Sam let her be, until the game ended. His team lost. He was pissed off.

"Figure now that you're leaving, you're not really my daughter anymore, huh?"

Olivia narrowed her eyes and peered over the top of her book. "I've never been your daughter, Sam. We've just been stuck with each other."

He chuckled once (a chuckle that could have instead passed as a scoff) and took another sip of his beer, emptying the can. He absentmindedly threw it on the floor next to him. "Smart-ass. You got that from your mother. Never liked that about her."

He was pissed off, _and_ he was drunk. He was obviously looking for an argument, and Olivia was in no mood to deprive him of that. The personal insults she could handle. When he talked badly about her mother was when she _really_ got annoyed.

So, she stuck a bookmark in _Tess of the d'Urbervilles _and set it on the arm of the couch. "Funny, I got the impression that you didn't like anything about her. That's why you beat her, right? Because she can never do enough for you?"

She could see his face reddening and his fists closing, and she couldn't help but laugh. A grown man, getting provoked that easily by a teenage girl. "Are you gonna hit me? Go ahead." Olivia leaned forward as if to egg him on.

Sam had never laid a hand on her before. Norma would never let him. When her children were younger, she made sure to never leave them alone with him, out of fear that they would suffer under his hand _(has he ever touched you?)._ But sometimes, words hurt more than fists, and Sam made sure to throw punches at Olivia whenever he could. She didn't mind, though. It didn't mean anything. He was a pathetic drunk who she would never have to see again, soon enough. As she got older, she got into the habit of teasing him, as if daring him to beat her. She knew that Norma would kill him if he did.

So, you can imagine her surprise when he leapt up from his chair, and smacked her squarely across the face.

At first, Olivia was just stunned. He'd actually done it. Then, the pain started to set in, and she rubbed her reddening cheek. "I am sick and tired of your shit." Sam grabbed her by her shoulders, picked her up off the couch, and threw her to the ground. Her head hit the floor hard and ricocheted twice. An instant throbbing sensation swelled up in her brain. She squirmed, trying to escape his grasp, but he was a lot bigger and stronger than she was.

"You never know when to shut your mouth, just like your mother."

He pinned her arms to the ground and continued to listen to her struggle. "Get off me, Sam!"

The man laughed, his putrid, beer breath finding its way to Olivia's nostrils. "Oh, not so tough now, huh?" Sam's hand roughly grabbed her left breast. This was happening, _to her. _She was going to be raped in her living room by the man she had known, for nearly her entire life, no matter how loosely the term was applied, as Dad. Olivia felt herself panicking and as an instinct, kicked him in the gut.

He stumbled back a little, and was temporarily wounded. She saw her chance and sprung up, and started running to her bedroom. She would lock the door and wait it out until her mother or brothers were home. Surely, one of them would know what to do next. Surely, one of them would protect her.

She made it halfway down the hallway before he caught up. Sam yanked her by her hair and slammed her into the wall so hard that a picture fell and shattered beneath their feet. It was one of Norma and Sam's wedding photos.

Not only had he broken a picture frame, he'd momentarily knocked Olivia out. Her head slumped forward limply, and he dragged her back into the living room, laid her on the floor (with less than a little care), and hovered over her torso, in case she woke up and tried to kick him again.

A few moments later, she groggily opened her eyes and could make out the fuzzy image of her stepfather looming over her. "Sam, please.. stop," she begged in a voice that sounded desperate and pleading. She reached her arms up as to push him off, but they fell motionless at her sides. She was still weak and not fully conscious from being thrown against the wall. Thick, salty tears rolled down the sides of her face. Sam simply ignored her arms and her cries, and began to fumble with his belt.

She'd stopped fighting. Olivia looked to her left and saw the abandoned beer can he'd thrown on the floor. There were some stray drops falling out of the can and pooling into a little lake on the floor. Similarly, the tears falling down her face began pooling up as well.

Sam was too drunk and slow to react to the front door clicking and opening. Norma and Norman were engaged in some sort of conversation that they both found to be hilarious. Norma's laughter stopped abruptly when she was met with the image in front of her. "What the hell are you doing?" She dropped the paper bag full of groceries on the floor and ran towards her husband, hands out. She pushed him off of Olivia.

He fell off of her without much resistance, and, upon hitting the floor, promptly passed out. Olivia stumbled up and ran to her bedroom again, this time making it. She slammed the door shut and clicked the lock as fast as she could.

Norma looked back and forth between her stunned son, her unconscious husband, and the hallway that Olivia had just run down. "Norman, go to your room, lock the door."

Norman began to protest, "Mothe-"

"Just do what I say." Norma held her hand up and Norman understood. He wasn't entirely sure what he'd just seen, but he had a faint idea. He'd known that his father was angry and abusive, but he'd never seen him _that_ angry and abusive, and particularly not towards his sister.

The woman, frightened and shaken up and even a little numb glanced back down at her husband, to see that he was still unconscious. He had thrown up on himself somewhere in the process, but she didn't bother moving his head. She didn't care if he drowned in it.

Silence settled in the Bates household, a silence that was not normal and not friendly. Norma walked all too calmly down the hallway until she reached the door of her daughter's room. She rattled the doorknob, but it didn't budge. She'd locked it. _Of course_ she had. "Olivia, please let me in." Panic settled in and she knocked furiously. Norma could hear footsteps pacing back and forth and the somewhat reserved cries of her daughter.

"Please," she tried again, "It's just me."

Norma knew what could be done behind closed doors, and her daughter had always been somewhat of a wildcard. She was fully prepared to kick the door down.

Olivia's footsteps stopped abruptly, grew closer and eventually, she could hear the lock on the door click. Norma twisted the knob and was face to face with Olivia. Her cheeks were bright red. Tears were still falling, but less frequently now. Hair stuck awkwardly to the sides of her face. Circular bruises already turning a shade of purple dotted across her collarbone and around her neck. There was a nasty looking cut on her forehead that she'd gotten somewhere in the mess of it all. She had no idea how long they'd been fighting, how long Olivia had been _defending herself _before she opened the front door. Norma found herself audibly exhaling as she entered the room and locked the door behind her, for good measure.

"What happened?"

Olivia sat on her bed and exhaled. Her eyes stung and her breaths were inconsistent. She wanted nothing more in the world than to go to sleep and pretend this whole ordeal never happened. She wanted to wrap herself in her comforter and disappear for a day or two. But she couldn't. A line had been crossed, and she had to stand up for herself.

"You know what happened." The words came out with a little more disdain than intended, but the point was made. And she was right. Norma knew exactly what happened. The scene was all too familiar, in fact.

Norma sat on the bed as well, and reached out a hand to meet her daughter's face. Olivia flinched backwards and Norma pulled her hand back. "He's just a pathetic drunk, Olivia."

"Y-you're defending him?"

The eyes that had once looked at her with wonder and admiration now looked at her with contempt and disgust. Olivia quickly rose from the bed and started to cry again, this time not out of fear, but out of anger.

"I-I'm not defending him," Norma assured her. But it was no use. Her daughter's mind was made up. Olivia was heaving a suitcase out of the back of her closet and on to her bed. Norma's eyes widened and she felt her breathing momentarily cease. "Where are you going?"

"I'm leaving."

Norma stood cautiously and watched as her daughter unzipped her suitcase and began throwing random pieces of clothing into it. "Yeah.. I can see that. Where are you going?"

Olivia unloaded practically her entire underwear drawer and avoided the question. Even she didn't have an answer. "I need to get out of here, I need to leave."

"No, Olivia, no," Norma shook her head and found that her eyes had begun brimming with tears. If Olivia left, it would just be her and Norman and _Sam. _Dylan was practically gone already anyways, and she loved Norman, more than anyone, but there were some things that he just didn't understand that Olivia did. Silent things mostly, things that mother and daughter both knew and mutually agreed not to talk about. But, it was nice knowing that there was someone there that she _could_ talk to. It wasn't like Sam let her have any friends.

"Try and stop me."

Norma saw that Olivia was going for her closet, and wasted no time blocking the entrance. She placed a hand on each side of the doorway. She shook her head again. "No," she held a finger up. "I'm your mother and I'm saying you can't leave."

Olivia retaliated. "I'm an adult. I can do what I want." She pushed past Norma and began grabbing things off of hangers. She wasn't looking at anything real closely, so she wouldn't be surprised if, when she looked in her suitcase later, she was stuck with a whole lot of flouncy tops and flowy dresses.

Norma was panicking. "What about the library?"

"I'll call and tell them I quit," Olivia shrugged.

Norma was running out of things to say and Olivia was almost done packing.

While Olivia momentarily turned to her phone, Norma flipped her daughter's suitcase over, spilling the contents all over the floor.

Olivia quickly texted Dylan, who was still out with his friends.

_Can u come and get me? it's an emergency._

_Be there in a few._

"Hey!" Olivia exclaimed when she finally looked up and saw her clothes spread across her bedroom floor. Her mother was obviously desperate for her to stay. She quickly began to gather everything together again, before she realized that it was pointless. Norma would just dump everything out again. She was going to do this the hard way.

"You know what," She rose up and threw the shirt that she was holding back on the floor, "I can get new clothes."

Olivia knelt next to her bed and peered underneath of it. She pulled out a mildly crinkled shoe box, one that happened to be full of cash, and quickly shoved the money in the pockets of her jeans.

Norma watched curiously. How had she missed the fact that her daughter had been collecting money underneath of her bed? And why? Almost like she had been anticipating this would happen.

That's when it hit Norma.

She _had_ been anticipating this.

Not this _exactly _(definitely not this) but there eventually had to be something that would cause her to leave. There had to be a straw that would break the camel's back. It was foolish of her to think that her daughter would stay forever, especially in a house like theirs.

Silence had once again settled and Olivia could hear the soft rumbling of a car engine outside. She pulled away her curtains and saw a stopped car on the street.

_That was quick, _she thought. Almost as if reading her mind, a text from Dylan arrived a few seconds later.

_We were in the neighborhood._

If this night had any positive effects at all, it had been that, forever solidified in Olivia's brain, was the fact that her brother was the only one that she could always count on. He didn't demand an explanation, he just came when she called him.

"Time to go," Olivia spoke softly and mostly to herself, a reassurance that she was doing the right thing.

The girl took a deep breath and unlocked her door. She peered out into the hallway carefully, making sure that Sam wasn't waiting for her. The door to Norman and Dylan's room, which was at the opposite end of the hall, was open. Norman stood curiously in the doorway. Awkward, lanky Norman, the brother she'd always loved but would never understand. She waved goodbye and offered a small smile, which he returned, along with a single wave. He noticed his panicking mother behind her.

Sam was in the same spot as before, passed out on the living room floor in his own vomit. She couldn't help but think that the image of him was pathetic, but there was still a significant amount of fear that he would wake up any minute and resume what he'd been trying to accomplish. She tiptoed without even realizing she was doing it, Norma trailing behind her and into the kitchen.

Olivia reached the coat hanger and pulled her coat down. One arm and then the other were wrestled into the jacket, the jacket she'd had since 11 that was a tad too small for her now, but she'd grown too attached to to ever part with.

"Olivia, please.." Norma began to beg. Tears were falling down the sides of her face. Her eyeliner was smudged and her mascara running. She looked an absolute mess.

Olivia shook her head. "I have to go."

She was still incredibly and irrevocably pissed off. Her mother had defended the very man that almost raped her. Norma had failed to do the one thing that she'd always needed her to do - protect her. But no matter how pissed off she was, she couldn't find it in her heart to leave without saying goodbye. Her mother didn't deserve that.

The embrace happened quickly and quietly. "You need to get out of here," Olivia whispered in her mother's ear. Norma squeezed her daughter as tight as she could without fracturing a bone. She understood and agreed with her daughter. One of these days, Sam was going to kill her.

But, as we know, this didn't happen. She stayed with Sam for three more years, until his very last day. She probably would have stayed with him forever had he not died.

As much as Olivia leaving hurt, Norma understood on some level why she had to. Her daughter had the courage to do what she never had - she stood up for herself.

Just like that, she was gone.

Out the door, and into the cold, dark night.

Eighteen years they'd been together, and it only took the events of one night to separate mother and daughter.

Norma crumbled into pieces the second Olivia closed the door, and fell in a heap on the ground. Norman could hear her from his room and was slightly frightened. He'd never heard his mother wail like that. She sounded like she'd been wounded.

Olivia could hear her mother crying from outside of the house, which only made her cry harder. But, she kept walking. She wiped her tears and shoved her hands in her pockets.

Somebody in the backseat opened the car door for her. She slid on to the leather seat and shut the door behind her. The car was warm and the music was loud. There were two people in the front and two in the back (now three) and, as is unfortunately typical with teenagers, none of them were wearing seat belts.

The person who'd opened the car door for her was Dylan. He scooted into the middle to make room for his sister. He could see that she was crying, and had been for some time.

_(Now I'm falling asleep)_

"Are you okay?"

_(And she's calling a cab)_

"No, Dylan. I'm not."

_(While he's having a smoke)_

His eyes then met the cut on her forehead. She hadn't bothered to clean it off, so it probably looked pretty bad right about now. She could see that he was getting angry just looking at it. The idea of someone hurting his sister _pissed him off._

_(And she's taking a drag)_

"Did he do this to you?" Dylan didn't specify who _he _was, but he didn't have to.

_(Now they're going in bed)_

Olivia nodded. Dylan exhaled loudly through his nose. He put a protective arm around her.

_(And my stomach is sick)_

Olivia rested her head on his shoulder, knowing that this might be the last time for awhile that she would see him.

_(And it's all in my head)_

That's when they both realized that the car wasn't moving. The driver, one of Dylan's friends ("friend" was a loosely applied term. Quite frankly, Dylan thought that AJ was a dumb-ass, but he was good company and could always score you a keg), was glancing at them through the rear view mirror. "Can you drive please? And shut the radio off?" Dylan asked.

_(But she's touching his ches-)_

"Where to?"

Dylan looked to Olivia. She hadn't specified where she wanted to go, just that she wanted to _go. _

She deliberated for a moment. "The nearest bus station."

AJ drove too fast and a bit recklessly, but they managed to make it to the bus station unharmed. Olivia was so warm and comfortable that she'd nodded off once or twice. Dylan had to gently shake her when they arrived.

"Liv, we're here."

"Hmm?" She groggily opened her eyes and lifted her head from her brother's shoulder.

Realization sunk in and she was alert again. She opened the car door and Dylan slid out after her.

"You'd better keep this car right where it is or I'll _fucking_ hurt you," Dylan threatened AJ, whose eyes were wide. Dylan was kidding, but only partly.

They walked to the kiosk, arms linked around each other, where Olivia purchased a ticket for the nonstop bus to Las Vegas. It was boarding in 10 minutes. He'd looked at her funny, thinking that Las Vegas was an odd choice. She shrugged and smiled. "I want to see what Sin City has to offer."

They sat on an empty bench, _waiting_, and were mostly silent. Dylan was curious what exactly had happened. Olivia was wondering what the hell she was going to do in Vegas.

"No radio silence. Promise?" Dylan spoke firmly.

Olivia looked into her brother's eyes, which were glossy with tears. The brave Dylan Massett shedding tears over her. She nodded. "Promise."

He pointed at the cut on her head, which was beginning to scab over. Eventually, it would turn into a scar. "You'd better cover that up. Don't want people asking questions."

Olivia moved some pieces of hair in the way of the cut. Luckily, it wasn't in the middle of her forehead and would be easy to conceal.

"Find some Neosporin the second the bus stops. And text me right away."

She chuckled and smiled faintly. "I'll send you a postcard."

Then, the bus was there and it was time to go.

While passengers unloaded, Dylan pulled Olivia to him and hugged her harder than he ever had before. It was a hug with intent, one that was supposed to be lasting. They mutually understood this. When the hug broke, Olivia kissed his cheek. He blushed. "Shave while I'm gone, won't you?" She teased. His patchy, teenage facial hair had scratched against her face.

She turned back around once while climbing up the steps, before being herded away by impatient people behind her. She smiled at him quickly and disappeared into a mass of cloth seats and poor lighting.

Dylan could feel a tear rolling down his face and gathering on his scruff.

Olivia found a seat towards the back and set her jacket on an empty one beside her. She took her cell phone out of her pocket, sighed, and attempted to steady her hands. She was still shaking. Towards the top of her text messages was her best friend, Maddie. Maddie was the only one that Olivia had confided in about Sam and her less than perfect home-life. She didn't deserve radio silence, either.

Her fingers typed swiftly and didn't hesitate when hitting send.

_This is the night that I finally leave. I'll let you know where I end up. Love you._

Olivia never talked to Maddie again.

Winter in Arizona was different than winter in Minnesota or Pennsylvania. There was no snow and it wasn't even particularly cold, but the days were just as short. The sun had gone down before they'd even eaten dinner, and the sky was ink black by now.

_(No, I'm not mad at you.)_

Olivia's head rested against the window. It felt cool against her cheek, but she didn't mind. Maybe being preoccupied with how cold the side of her face was would take her thoughts away from what had happened. She found herself replaying the events in her head on a loop, no matter how hard she tried to make them go away.

_(How do you feel about having a sleepover?)_

A mechanical puff sounded as the bus started and was off. It gathered speed and eventually reached a tunnel. Lights flashed across her face and a _woosh_ echoed in her ears. She began to dose off, and for some odd reason, images of The Breakfast Club began to appear. Olivia hadn't seen the film since she was eight years old, and suddenly it was all she could think about.

_(When you grow up, your heart dies.)_

She slept.

* * *

Norma Bates was preoccupied.

She was trying to access hotel records from her laptop, but the WiFi kept cutting out and a popup saying "You're Disconnected!" kept appearing. She was getting frustrated. Her internet company had sent someone last week to look at it, but he'd assured her that everything was fine, before proceeding to send her a bill.

Norma Bates was so preoccupied, in fact, that she didn't see her son going into Room 8.

"Good morning, sunshine," Dylan greeted his sister as she came to the door. Her toothbrush was hanging out of her mouth, her hair was messily piled on top of her head, and adorning her face was a less than thrilled expression.

Olivia was usually a morning person, but last night had been restless. It had been hard falling asleep and every time she did, her dreams were intruded upon by images of her stepfather.

Dylan closed the door behind him and sat on the unmade and quite unkempt bed. It was apparent that she'd spent all night tossing and turning. Olivia spit her toothpaste into the sink, rinsed her mouth out with water, and then splashed some on her face.

She came out of the bathroom with a towel in her hands, patting her face dry. It didn't help much. She still felt like she was sleepwalking.

"Nice bags." Dylan smirked and pointed to his own eyes. Olivia stuck her tongue out at him.

"Someone's feisty this morning."

Olivia threw the towel back in the bathroom and quickly glanced in the mirror. He was right. There were rather violent dark spots underneath her eyes.

"Well," She turned the bathroom light off and instead began rummaging through her suitcase, looking for something to wear, "As you so kindly pointed out, I got no sleep."

Dylan kicked his shoes off and put his legs on the bed. He rested his arms behind his head. Her brother spent no time making himself comfortable. "What's on your mind?"

"Sam apparently. I kept seeing him every time I closed my eyes."

"Is this a recurring thing?" Dylan asked, concerned.

She shook her head. "Not usually, no. I think it's just.. being here, seeing mom."

He cleared his throat and looked around the room nervously. "_That_ night, right?"

The very events of the night in question had never been fully explained to Dylan, partially because he'd never asked. He thought that if his sister wanted him to know, then she would tell him.

Olivia nodded. "I think once I talk to her about it, I'll feel a little better."

"And if she throws you out?" He questioned.

Olivia stopped, then shrugged. "Then it's still closure. I tried to right my wrongs."

Being thrown out was exactly what she was afraid of. She wouldn't blame her mother if she didn't want to see her after four years of _nothing. _

"_Your _wrongs?" Dylan raised an eyebrow. Even though he didn't know what happened that night, he knew that it wasn't her fault. Sam was an asshole of the highest degree.

Her stepfather had nearly raped her, and still it was her fault.

_It was always her fault._

"It's called guilt, Dylan. You wouldn't understand," She half teased. Dylan settled fights by using his fists. Olivia settled them by not settling them at all, but rather running away and then coming back later to admit fault. It was becoming a recurring thing.

Olivia finally settled on an outfit. A pair of faded Levi's jeans, a Rolling Stones t-shirt (which she was almost positive had been James'), and sun bleached maroon sneakers (which were now a lovely shade of pink). She piled the clothes into an arm and zipped her suitcase closed.

"Where are you going, anyways? Work?"

She went into the bathroom and closed the door. "I'm doing some gardening."

Dylan felt himself smiling at this. "Joining the business, aye?"

She scoffed and rolled her eyes. "Oh, shut up. I'm helping Georgia with her flowers."

Once she was all dressed, she threw her hair into a trusty side braid and opened the door.

Dylan raised an eyebrow and shook his head. "You're too nice. Charity work for your boss on a Saturday."

She shrugged. "Might as well. Gets me out of this room." It was a nice motel, but the room was getting a little claustrophobic. She needed to breathe some fresh air.

He sat up, seeing that she was primed and ready to leave. He slid his shoes back on and walked to the door. He opened it and held an arm out.

"After you."

She shook her head. "No, you have to leave first."

He narrowed his eyes at her. "Why?"

"So mom doesn't see us leaving at the same time."

Dylan rolled his eyes and closed the door. He was letting all the hot, thick air inside the room. "I doubt Norma's even down here. She's probably up at the house with Norbit."

"Please, Dylan?" Olivia's eyes were pleading now.

"Fine."

Naturally, Norma happened to glance out the window at the precise moment her son was leaving Room 8. She stopped fumbling with her computer and peered in between the blinds curiously. Thirty seconds (give or take) later, a girl followed suit. Norma tried to get a look at her, but her face was turned in the opposite direction. The girl climbed into a charcoal colored Jeep and drove away. For a moment, Norma thought about following her, but shook away the thought. That was _crazy. _

Olivia was still getting used to making her way around White Pine Bay. For a town of only around 3,000, once you passed main street, everything was fairly spread out. She had Georgia's address which, in classic Georgia fashion, had been written on a napkin. She stopped in front of an average sized tutor style home, with a bright blue mailbox stuck in the front yard. There were flowers and bumblebees painted onto it. This seemed about right.

"Hi, hun!" Georgia was dressed exactly as to be expected; a coral pink t-shirt with a pair of faded overalls, (once) green and well loved Converse, and a floppy straw sunhat. Her greying blonde hair was pulled back in a long, messy ponytail. She lifted a hand up in a wave, and then motioned for Olivia to come towards her. "Here, come on out back."

Once in the backyard, Olivia could see that weeding would be an all day thing. The garden was extensive and bright. Flowers of all shapes, sizes, and colors were spread throughout the backyard, all the way to the edges of the property. Nestled between bushes was a stone fountain with a handcrafted angel smack dab in the middle. Sunlight reflected off of a bright fuchsia birdbath. In the middle of the grassy courtyard was a gazebo. It had maybe once been white, but desperately needed a fresh coat of paint.

An audible "Wow," escaped her lips, at which Georgia smiled proudly. "Yep. Thirty years of hard work and continuity."

"It's incredible, Georgia," Olivia assured her.

Olivia could see that Georgia's fingernails were caked with dark mud. She narrowed her eyes. "You don't use gloves?"

Georgia held her hand out as if to admire it, and smiled. "Dirt under the fingernails means a job well done."

She wasn't about to argue with her, but still grabbed a pair of abandoned looking gloves with ladybugs on them. It appeared they'd been used once, at max.

Georgia instructed Olivia what and what not to pull. Some of the weeds looked oddly like flowers, and vice versa. A shovel was in Olivia's hand as she tried to uproot a rather nasty looking weed. She was starting to think that Georgia had the right idea with using her hands. She took her gloves off and managed to get a better grip on it. "Is Henry here?" Henry was Georgia's husband.

"No, he went golfing with some friends. You know how much old boys love their putt putts."

Olivia shook her head in disappointment. "Too bad. I wanted to meet him."

The older woman smiled. "I'm sure you will, in time." Olivia had heard nothing but great things about Henry from everybody that knew him and was willing to offer up how his laugh could fill a room and how he never failed to fill his pockets with candy.

A silence fell over them. Olivia cleared her throat. "Do you have any kids, Georgia?"

She nodded. "A son, Michael. Has a fancy corporate job and _two _houses." She seemed rather proud of this fact. "Comes around every now and then. What about you?" She asked jokingly.

"Haha, no," Olivia chuckled nervously.

"Thought you seemed a bit young."

A steady stream of conversation ensued between the two women. They mainly asked each other questions, trying to get to know the other better. Georgia told stories here and there. Olivia's answers about herself were mostly brisk. Of course, Georgia noticed this.

The conversation had somehow come back around to gardening. "Do you know why I love flowers so much, Olivia?"

Olivia shook her head and plunged her hands in the dirt. A worm poked out of the hole she'd made. They were planting now, as if there was more room in the garden. Georgia assured her there was. "I love flowers because they're resilient. They come back year after year. They can withstand weeds, bad weather, and come out on the other end."

Georgia sighed and uprooted a sad, wilted looking daffodil. At one time, it'd been bright yellow, but now it was just a melancholic shade of brown. "Well, most of the time."

Two hours later, and the sun was at its highest point. Georgia insisted that meant it was time for lunch. She made sandwiches and a fruit salad. Olivia was grateful. She'd barely been eating since she'd arrived in White Pine Bay. It was probably the fact that she was constantly on edge and as a result, forever nauseous. A perfect looking peach cobbler was set on the table after the remnants of lunch were cleared, just as had been promised.

Georgia sat and watched as Olivia divvied them up two generous sized amounts. "Did you want to talk about it?"

Olivia eyed her curiously. "Talk about what?"

"Your mother."

Her mouth instantly went dry like it was filled with cotton. That was the one topic they'd been able to mainly avoid (except a few embellished stories of Olivia's childhood here and there).

"What if it's my brother that is the reason for everything? He was there too."

She _had _said that she hadn't seen her mother _and_ brother in four years. She hoped this would be enough to make Georgia lay off, but she didn't seem convinced.

"Nope, it's always the mother." Georgia pulled her hair out of its up-do and shook her head back and forth.

Olivia sighed and poked at the dessert with her fork. "It's complicated, Georgia."

"Things are never as complicated as we think."

She wasn't budging, but they certainly weren't having that conversation today. "Maybe some other time, okay?"

"Okay," Georgia held her hands up in defeat and leaned back in her chair. "You know where to find me when you're ready."

_When you're ready._

Olivia took a much anticipated bite of the cobbler while Georgia looked on eagerly. "Oh my god," Olivia pointed to her plate with her fork. "_Yours_ is better than _hers_."

"If a girl named Georgia can't make a damn fine peach cobbler, she's in trouble."

* * *

They'd had a nice day. Dylan and Norma had gone a full sun up/sun down cycle without fighting. _About anything._ It was unusual. Norma cooked a nice dinner for herself and her two sons, which they'd enjoyed over a steady stream of conversation and laughter. But there was something that was itching at the back of Norma's brain. Actually, _two _somethings.

For one, she was beginning to worry that her youngest son was obsessed with death. He spent half of his time in the basement, tending to his dead animals, and the other half in the cemetery, mourning his dead teacher. As for her eldest.. well, there were a lot of things she worried about. Right now, the girl from Room 8 was at the top of her list.

Post dinner, Norman had gone back down to the basement, much to Norma's dismay, and Dylan had gone down to the motel, probably to see that girl again. She would talk to him when he was back. Tell him that it wasn't right, what he was doing. As for Norma, she was finishing up washing some dishes. Her faithful little radio played _La Vie en Rose _by Edith Piaf. She found that her foot involuntarily tapped along as she scrubbed a plate.

After finishing the rest of the dishes, Norma retired to the living room with a glass of red wine and a book. She got 100 pages in before Dylan finally returned. Norman, of course, was still in the basement.

She heard the door open and then shut. Her eldest appeared in the entryway, with slightly flushed cheeks and an unenthused facial expression. He pulled at the back of his neck nervously.

"Norma, I've got something to tell you."

She knew what he was going to say. He was going to say that he'd slept with one of her customers and driven off the business. Why did he have to ruin what had been a good day? She wanted to get what she had to say in before giving him a chance to try and explain himself.

Norma stuck a bookmark in between pages 100 and 101 and sat up a little straighter. "Dylan, I am not going to be privy to you fooling around with the motel guests. It's bad for business."

He narrowed his eyes and began to shake his head. "Norma, that's not what this is-"

"-Well, that's sure what it looks like," Norma rose from her spot on the couch, "Sneaking in and out of Room 8, really Dylan? You thought I wouldn't notice? Think about the example you're setting for Norman."

Dylan rolled his eyes. Of course. He knew that she'd find some way to fit Norman into the situation. "Norma-"

Norma could feel her cheeks getting hotter and the tone of her voice rising. She couldn't tell if that was because of the wine, or because she was getting annoyed. Probably a bit of both. "This needs to stop. It has to stop, otherwise you have to-"

"Mom!"

Finally, Norma went quiet. He only called her mom once in a blue moon. That meant that whatever he was about to say was important. Instead of speaking, Dylan sidestepped to the right. Behind him stood a blonde girl of average height, with Norma's smile and sense of stubbornness. To say that Olivia was nervous would have been a great understatement. She felt like she would throw up any minute. Her arms were wrapped around herself protectively in a nervous habit, her fingers hugging the sides of her waist. She hadn't seen her mother in 4 years. She was expecting a slap in the face, if anything.

"Hi."

What a simple introduction (or, _re_introduction). Olivia had a whole speech planned out. But the second she'd stepped into the unfamiliar home, she'd forgotten all of it. Almost like it had been wiped from her memory.

Norma simply stared at her, like she was alien and she'd never seen her before. Similarly, Olivia did the same. They'd both changed a bit in 4 years. Olivia's hair, which used to fall slightly below her breasts, now only reached just below her shoulders. _I should have changed _Olivia thought, noting that she was still wearing the faded t-shirt and her grass stained jeans and her sun kissed shoes. She looked skinnier (_has she been eating okay? Norma wondered), _more adult. And.. she was. She'd lived a whole life since that night.

Olivia finally broke after a minute of silent stares, and half-smiled. Norma took a few steps forward towards Olivia and reached a hand forward. _This is it, this is the moment she slaps me_, Olivia thought to herself. To her surprise (and Dylan's, quite honestly), Norma's hand gently met her blonde waves. She stroked her daughter's hair and examined her face. Olivia could feel her cheeks turning a shade of crimson. Tears welled up in Norma's eyes and a smile lifted her cheeks.

Her baby girl was home.

She pulled her daughter in for a hug. It took a second, but Olivia eventually wrapped her arms around her mother, too. Norma squeezed tighter. She had to make sure that this was real, and not just a dream. Wine _was _known to make her sleepy. She almost asked one of her children to pinch her. Olivia was now crying hot, muted tears, leaving dark spots on Norma's cream colored cardigan. "I'm sorry," was all that she managed to get out before another sob gathered in the back of her throat.

"You don't have to be sorry," Norma assured her daughter and ran her hand over her hair.

"Yes I do."

Norman, halfway through cutting open a rabbit, could hear laughter from upstairs. Laughter and tears interchangeably. He thought it was curious. Norman set down his tools and pulled his gloves off. He shed his denim work shirt, which was covered in dried blood. Slowly, he crept up the basement stairs and peered into the parlor, where his mother was locked in an embrace with someone. Someone he recognized. An old friend.

It was his sister.

Norma spotted him first. "Norman!" Her eyes lit up and a playful smile crossed her face. "Look who's home." The embrace broke, but Norma put an arm around her daughter and squeezed her side.

Olivia studied her brother. Her _little _brother, who'd once been shorter than her, lanky, and awkward had grown into a tall, handsome man. Minus the beer gut, he looked a lot like Sam. "Wow, you've grown up."

But he simply stood there silent, observing her the way that Norma had. He looked her up and down and eventually managed to muster a smile. Norman had always liked his sister, but they hadn't exactly been close. Those days after she left had been some of the hardest. He remembered how sad his mother had been, and couldn't help but cite her as the cause.

"Have you gotten shorter?" Norman joked, and walked forwards to give his sister a hug. Olivia wrapped her arms around his shoulders. "No, you've just become a giant." Norma clapped her hands together and smiled at the sight of her children together again. All three of them were here, and all three of them were beaming.

While Norma put a kettle on the stove, her children congregated around the kitchen table. Norman was the first one to ask a question.

"You're not going to leave again, are you?" The way he asked it was almost childlike. Norman hadn't yet decided whether he would be sad or relieved if she disappeared without a trace again.

Olivia shook her head profusely. "No, no! God no. I needed a change of scenery."

"Where did you go?" Norma asked. (Both women simultaneously added _"after that night" _in their heads, but it was not the time to talk about that. Not yet, anyways.)

"Las Vegas, at first," Olivia began to explain, "Sin City was.. something." She looked to Dylan and cracked a smile. "I settled in San Francisco." She said _settled_ with a certain amount of hesitance.

Norma turned around from the stove, crossed her arms, and narrowed her eyes. "What was so special about San Francisco?"

"I had a steady job. A good apartment. Friends." She failed to mention the thing, or person rather, that was what really kept her there. Norma could tell.

"_A__nd_?"

"You know, I feel a little like I'm on trial here."

The older woman scoffed. "Forgive me for wanting to know what my daughter has been up to for the past four years."

Norma, although incredibly caring with killer maternal instincts, was known to be rather volatile.

Slightly mortified green eyes met the ground. "You're right, sorry."

The kettle screamed.

Norma poured water into four mugs and dropped teabags in. She handed one to each of her children. Dylan and Norman set theirs on the table, leaving them untouched. Olivia watched the water in her cup as it started to darken.

"How long have you been here?" Norma sat in the only unoccupied chair at the table and sipped her tea cautiously.

"A week or so."

Norma's eyes widened. "And you've been staying down in the motel the entire time? How did I not notice you?"

The mug was starting to burn Olivia's hands, so she set it down. She shrugged. "I didn't want you to notice me yet."

Norma shook her head. "You're not staying down there anymore. It's so hot and the air conditioning works better up here anyways."

Instantly, Olivia began to protest. "No mom, it's okay, I can-"

"-Olivia." Norma spoke softly but firmly. She was not going to be moved on this. She would go gather her daughter's things herself if she had to. Dylan and Norman quietly watched the scene unfold, both thinking the exact same thing.

_The women in this family and their stubbornness. _

Olivia decided now was not the time to argue with her mother. She sighed and after some time, she nodded. "Okay. I'll get my stuff."

She unlocked Room 8 and began to gather her belongings. Clothes littered the floor, some dirty, some not, but she scooped them all up and put them in her suitcase. Somehow, by the time she was done, it felt lighter than the day that she'd packed it. That day, it had felt like it was full of rocks.

But she shook away the thought of leaving and trailed back up the endless stone steps to the house. There was a free room but, because Norma had not been expecting a fourth inhabitant, it had nothing but a rusty bed frame and a few boxes that had yet to be unpacked. She would sleep in Dylan's room for the night. He offered her the bed, but she refused, already feeling intrusive enough. So, Olivia changed into her pajamas, brushed her teeth, and settled into the slightly uncomfortable couch next to the bed.

Dylan and Olivia sharing a room made Norma feel a little uneasy, but it was the only option for tonight.

The mother bade her children goodnight and climbed into bed. She shut her lights off, but found herself lying awake for hours. By morning, she couldn't remember if she'd fallen asleep at all.

Dylan snored loudly five minutes after hitting his sheets, which Olivia couldn't help but laugh at. It could have (and probably should have) been irritating, but instead, she found it comforting.

She slept.

* * *

**Author's Note**: The depiction of abuse in this chapter was one of the hardest things I've ever had to write, but I'm glad I've finally done it. One of the big questions surrounding Olivia has finally been answered. And also... it's the moment we've all been waiting for! Mother and daughter are together again. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! I had such a fun time writing it (and I have the word count to prove it; this chapter is the length of the other three _combined_!). I recently finished _IT_ and Stephen King has introduced me to the world of parenthesis (sorry). Next chapter will align with the start of Season Two and follow the events that happen from then-on. Please follow, favorite, and leave a review if you feel so moved!

I probably won't be updating until after Christmas break is over (but I _will_ be writing over break!) so I hope that this extra long chapter makes up for it. You can probably expect the next update in early-January. Have a great Christmas everybody!:)

(P.S. - I purposely waited to upload this chapter until December 11. It's D and O's birthday today :D)


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